Stu Truly

by Dan Richards

  “Are we having fun yet?” Mr. Snedaker asked near the end of class.

  Seriously? The looks being given should’ve wiped the grin off his face. I, for one, was contorting my forehead in such a way the word scowl could be read from space.

  “Tomorrow we’ll work on our swing technique,” Mr. Snedaker called as he finally dismissed us.

  “How am I supposed to swing Debbie?” Ryan lamented as we headed to our next class.

  Ben caught up to us. “Square dancing is pretty cool, huh?”

  The three of us eyed a passing garbage can. It seemed to be just Ben’s size.

  “Are you crazy?” Ryan snapped, scrunching his body to look almost big enough to be scary.

  “I don’t know what your problem is,” Ben replied. “It beats doing health.”

  “I don’t know,” Tyler said. “I think I’d rather learn about the male reproductive system.”

  That brought shudders.

  “Okay, maybe not,” he continued, “but there has to be something better we could be doing. They don’t make people in the real world go around holding hands with each other.”

  “Lighten up,” Ben said, suppressing a giggle. By suppress, I mean not in any way suppressing his giggle. “You’re taking this whole thing a bit too seriously.”

  “Too seriously?” I shot back. “Are you kidding? She wrote me a note.” I stopped short. How on earth had I let that slip out?

  A collective gasp occurred. In fact, I’m pretty sure the entire school gasped given how loudly I had proclaimed that last sentence.

  “She wrote you a note?” Ben said, suppressing another giggle. “What did it say?”

  “Nothing. It said nothing.” I desperately wished for removable ears. At the moment, they were glowing so hot Santa could use them to guide his sleigh.

  “Dude,” Tyler interjected. “She’s got a crush on you.”

  “Are you sure the note was from her?” Ryan asked quietly.

  I glanced at Ryan, the memory from lunch a couple days ago returning. Oh no, not more drama.

  “I don’t know, probably not. It was just a note.”

  “Stu’s got an admirer,” Ben called out to some passing eighth graders.

  “Will you shut up?”

  “You the man.”

  “Shut up!”

  Jackson happened past as we neared the classroom doorway.

  Ben motioned my way. “He’s the man.”

  Oh yes, compared to Jackson I was the man. Yeah, right.

  Friday ranked right up there between getting my first filling and the time I crashed my skateboard into a rosebush. For starters, square dancing went from bad to worse. Gretchen refused to hold my hand while we maneuvered through increasingly complicated movements that required the artistic skill of someone actually trying to dance. With her hand shriveled up her sleeve like the head of a frightened turtle, I was forced to cling to the back of her sweater. This did not go unnoticed. I was referred to as Preschool Stu by my buddies for the remainder of class. It didn’t help matters that Ben kept whispering, “He’s the man,” to anyone within earshot every time we passed.

  On the way to our next class, I stated the obvious: “Square dancing sucks.”

  “Oh, don’t be so cranky,” Ben teased. “You the man.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I don’t want to be Debbie’s armpit hairbrush anymore,” Ryan added.

  Ben perked up. “She has armpit hair?”

  “More than you.”

  “That’s not saying much,” I commented.

  “Shut up, I have hair.”

  “Yeah, on your butt,” I clarified.

  “Anyone going to the dance tonight?” Ben asked to change the subject.

  Tyler and Ryan stopped short.

  “Are you kidding?” Tyler said. “After square dancing all week? I’m not going anywhere near a dance floor.”

  “Me neither,” Ryan said.

  I kept my mouth shut. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do. The idea of voluntarily going to a dance went against my better judgment. And yet I didn’t want to let Ben down. From what he’d told me earlier, he had even gotten a black T-shirt to wear. Really? The only black thing I owned was a pair of basketball shorts with a bright orange stripe down the side that made me look like one of the school traffic cones. Beyond that, the closest I had to black was a dark blue T-shirt with the words Don’t Be a Butt blazoned across the front that Ben had given me for Christmas. Ben thought it was funny. My parents, not so much. I had been forbidden to wear it in public.

  I got home to find my father in the garage with a needle, thread, and piles of skin-colored material piled around him. “Hey, Stu, you’re just in time.”

  From the looks of it, I was anything but just in time. “What are you doing?”

  My father picked up one of the piles. “I need you to try this on.”

  He handed me something that looked like a jumpsuit made of women’s nylons. “You gotta be kidding. I’m not putting this on.”

  My father set down his needle and thread. “C’mon, I just need to know if it’s the right size.”

  I stared again at the skin-tight garment. “No way. This looks ridiculous.”

  “C’mon,” my father coaxed. “It’s not finished. When it’s done, you’re gonna love it.”

  I lowered my backpack and unfolded the garment. It didn’t look any more inviting than it had when bunched together in a wad. “Why don’t you wear it?” I responded.

  My father laughed as he held up another pile. “I will be. Trust me, we’ll be the highlight of the parade.”

  Say what? “These are for the float?”

  “Of course,” my father answered, as if any fool could see that. “What did you think I was making? Pajamas?”

  Frankly, the thought had crossed my mind. “No, it just doesn’t look like a costume.”

  My father shook his head as if I were the most simpleminded person in the room. I was pretty sure I wasn’t. “It doesn’t look like a costume yet because I’m not finished. Just you wait and see. We’re all going to look awesome!”

  “What do you mean all?”

  “You know, you, me, Harley, and the boys. All of us. We’re going to be a hit!”

  Riding on a float with Harley and the boys? I had to admit it sounded kind of intriguing as long as I didn’t think about it too much. I didn’t. I pulled the leotard on over my clothes.

  “Perfect. You look perfect.”

  I pulled the thing off and headed inside. The phone rang as I entered the house. I had no doubt who was on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, I just want to make sure you’re going to the dance tonight,” Ben said.

  “Yeah, about that—”

  “Dude, you have to come. I’m counting on you.”

  I paused, trying to think of an excuse that would satisfy Ben. Not that he’d accept it, whatever it was. “My dad needs my help with a project he’s working on,” I began.

  “No, he doesn’t. Your dad never needs your help with anything. Just put on something black and come tonight.”

  A different tact was needed. I didn’t have one. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to make it.”

  “You better be there. Or I’ll hunt you down.”

  It’s important to note, when Ben says he’ll hunt you down, he means it. He once hunted Tyler down just to give him a return noogie on the head. Tyler was in church at the time. Ben escaped before the ushers caught him. He’s surprisingly agile for a kid with such a big head.

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  This left me two hours in which to search for something black to wear. The search ended with me wearing the traffic cone-striped shorts and Ben’s dark blue T-shirt hidden beneath my coat so my parents wouldn’t notice.

  My mother pulled her car up to the curb next to the gym. “I’m proud of you,” she said before I could get the door open.

  “Uh, okay,” I responded.

  She reached across and pushed a
few strands of hair into place. “A first dance is a big deal.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s just a dance,” I squeaked out.

  “Really,” she said, looking me over. “Just a dance? Is that why your right leg is so jittery?”

  I forced my leg to stop bouncing up and down like a pogo stick. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Just give it a chance and everything will be all right.”

  Easy for her to say. When was the last time she went to a middle school dance? “Okay.”

  She gave me her best reassuring smile and motioned to the door. “Well, you better go in. You don’t want to miss out.”

  I seriously did want to miss out. I could be home watching pointless reality TV right now. But it was too late to chicken out. I opened the door. “See you.”

  My mother gave a parting wave and drove off, leaving me alone on the sidewalk wondering why Ben and I hadn’t carpooled together. A low rumble emanated from the gym. My stomach knotted. I took a last gulp of fresh air and made my way inside.

  Considering what the last week had been like, I fully expected Gretchen to appear at my side. To my relief, she was nowhere in sight. Neither was Ben. I clung to the wall and tried to get my bearings. The lights had been turned off. In their place, a large disco ball hung from the center rafter. Flecks of light danced around the room. In the far corner, a guy wearing headphones and a tux jacket stood behind a pile of equipment. His head bounced to the beat while his fingers tapped on the laptop in front of him.

  The current song ended and another began. The new song sounded pretty much the same as the old song, a pounding beat that threatened to dislodge my liver and bounce it out through my gaping mouth. I had never heard music played so loud.

  “Hey, Stu,” someone yelled in my ear.

  I turned to find Ryan beside me. “What are you doing here?” I yelled back.

  “My parents made me come,” he yelled in return. “What?”

  I turned the volume on my voice up to ten. “I didn’t say anything,” I screamed.

  “You didn’t pay anything?” Ryan yelled.

  “Say anything,” I repeated, shouting as if he were standing a mile away.

  “What do you want me to say?” he shouted.

  I returned to scanning the room. Kirsten and Becca entered and immediately headed in our direction. They were wearing matching black tops and jeans. Next to them, I looked like the odd kid in class that wears checkered shirts with paisley pants.

  Kirsten leaned in so close her lips actually touched my ear. “Where’s Ben?” she yelled.

  I shrugged.

  “Oh well,” she yelled again. “Let’s dance.”

  Ryan and I were pulled onto the dance floor. There was plenty of room to spread out but we stayed shoulder to shoulder in order to hear each other.

  “This is fun,” Kirsten shouted.

  I nodded. Apparently most of those in attendance were missing out on the “fun.” They were clustered against the wall like newly hatched flies. I wished I could join them.

  The girls hopped up and down like a pair of rhythmic gymnasts. I tried to mimic them but ended up looking more like a frightened rabbit. Ryan, on the other hand, gyrated about as if having a music-induced seizure. I had never seen anything like it from him before. What he lacked in skill, he more than made up for in righteous fervor. If only Ben had been there, we could have teased him about it for the rest of his life. I did my best to lock the memory away for the both of us.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, the girls finally grew tired of all the hopping about.

  “Anyone want something to drink?” I asked.

  “That would be great,” Becca shouted.

  I grabbed Ryan and pulled him with me through the side door into the cool night air. My ears were ringing so loudly it sounded like bees were nesting inside. “Where’s Ben?” How could I kill him if he didn’t have the decency to show up?

  Ryan gulped down a cup of lemonade. “I don’t know. Who cares?”

  Who cares? I cared. He had dragged me into this. And now he wasn’t even taking the punishment with me. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Pretend like you’re going, then don’t show up. Brilliant.

  We headed back inside. Just as we were grabbing lemonade for the girls, a new song started. A different sort of song. With a slow beat. And a husky voice that crooned something about holding the one you love. My palms began to sweat. I froze in place. An idea formed. I should ask Becca to dance. What? No way. Maybe . . . I just needed to ask.

  Just then, a lone couple walked out onto the dance floor. The lone couple took hands and rocked slowly back and forth. The lone couple seemed lost in a world only they shared. The lone couple was Jackson and Becca.

  The cup in my hand hit the floor. Lemonade splashed everywhere. I barely noticed. All I saw was Becca holding hands with Jackson in front of the whole school—well, at least a small segment of the school. I wanted to run from the gym, but my feet were stuck to the floor. Maybe it was the lemonade. I stood watching Becca turn slowly in a circle with Jackson until she was staring right at me.

  Suddenly, my feet found traction and bolted, taking me with them. Unfortunately, they bolted in the wrong direction. I ended up in a corner of the gym where the exit doors were locked. Why I couldn’t turn into the Hulk at a time like that was beyond me. If only I could have, I would have smashed through the wall and run home with no memory of anything that had happened.

  I turned and slowly made my way back to where I started. Kirsten came up to me with her hands on her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “I thought you were going to run right through the wall.”

  The last thing I felt at that moment was okay. “Yeah, just needed some fresh air. A door would have helped.”

  She laughed, then grew serious, her eyes narrowing. “Next time, if you want to dance, just ask her.”

  Her words sounded ridiculous. And all too accurate. I had been stupidly slow. Again. But what was I to do? I’d never asked a girl to dance before. I didn’t even know there was going to be a slow dance. Let alone what one was supposed to do during one. Once, Ben and I watched a movie where there was a high school dance. Boys and girls were hugging each other. What if I had tried to hug her? What if in front of the whole school I had done something completely embarrassing? I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for any of it. I wasn’t ready for hair or muscles or dancing or anything else that happens when your world is changing faster then you can keep up with.

  The song ended, and the DJ picked up his microphone. “Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming out tonight! Hope you had a great time! Until next time, peace out.”

  The lights came up. A sea of kids shuffled for the exit, pulling me with them. I gulped in cold night air as I exited from the gym. I had survived my first middle school dance. Barely. It was like something had been left behind in the gym. Some part of me. Oh, and my coat. Ugh. I swam back against the tide into the gym and found my coat wadded up in a pile of other forgotten coats. One of them I recognized. Becca’s. I picked it up.

  “Thanks, Stu.”

  I turned to find Becca behind me. “Oh, yeah. Here you go,” I said, handing her the coat.

  “What did you think?” she asked.

  What did I think? I think Jackson should have his chin hair publicly plucked out by a giant, hair-sucking tarantula. “About what?”

  Becca giggled. “About the dance? What did you think of the Spring dance?”

  We walked toward the exit together.

  “Oh, that. I thought it was okay. Except for the dancing. And the music. And pretty much everything else.”

  Becca dropped her chin and her voice. “I thought it was kind of fun. I thought jumping up and down was fun.”

  I wanted desperately to smack myself in the head. Why hadn’t I said that? Was I stupid or just stupid? “Yeah, that’s what I meant to say.” It didn’t come out at all convincing.

  Becca w
aved and disappeared into the crowd.

  Jackson came over and gave me a high five like we were a couple of sports stars meeting at midfield. “Hey, man, that was awesome!”

  What would’ve been awesome would’ve been the disco ball dropping on his head right before he asked Becca to dance. “Yeah, awesome.”

  Jackson gave me a thumbs-up. “Excellent. That was an excellent dance.”

  Not as excellent as a poison dart sticking out of his butt cheek. “Excellent. Can’t wait for the next one.”

  Jackson nodded in agreement. “No kidding. Did you slow-dance with anyone?”

  I looked for our car. Where on earth was my mother? If she didn’t show up soon, I’d be forced to kill him with my bare hands. If only I had man hands. “No, not really.”

  “Too bad, it was pretty cool.”

  Thankfully, my mother arrived at that moment and motioned me over. “Gotta go,” I said, wishing I could turn into the Hulk long enough to launch Jackson and his chin hair into space. Instead, I had to settle for a quiet ride home with my tiny, boyish hands held limply in my lap. One day, I’d have chin hair and man hands and the muscles to go with them. Please, God. Soon.

  The next morning, I made a surprise visit to Ben’s house.

  “Get off me,” he exclaimed as I tried to push his head through the mail slot in his front door.

  I eased off the pressure on my knee that was planted firmly between his butt cheeks. “Where were you last night?” I yelled.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” he sputtered through the mail slot. “My mother looked up my grades online.”

  “What part of your grades is not your fault?”

  He twisted his head enough to pull his lips out of the slot. “It’s not my fault my teachers posted grades the day of the dance.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did, but you’d already left.”

  “You suck.”

  Ben giggled. I yanked my knee out of his backside, and we both slumped down against the doorframe.

  “How was it?”

  The last song of the evening replayed in my mind. “It sucked, almost as much as you.”

  “C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad.” He lowered his voice. “Was Kirsten there?”